


winter bear

by discountghost



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Kitsune, M/M, Psychological Drama, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost
Summary: It feels like winter has been going on forever.
Relationships: Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: BTS Fantasy Fic Fest 2020





	winter bear

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [jiminpvks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminpvks/pseuds/jiminpvks) in the [btsfantasyficfest2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/btsfantasyficfest2020) collection. 



> Just wanna thank you in advance for reading, and that chapters will get longer as the story progresses. That might be a hint ;)

The snow falls steadily.

It feels like it's been falling forever, with Taehyung stuck in the same spot watching it. The flakes drift down lazily, easily as they layer atop one another to form a seamless blanket of white. He blinks, rubs the sleep that lingers in his eyes. He's been staring, watching for hours. He flicks hair from the side of his face, the faintest of smiles on his lips. Jimin would be back soon, and then he would have someone warm to hang on to. He curls up in his blankets, hand wrapped around his mug as he continues to stare, watch.

He ignores the thing he should be working on. In the corner of the room, propped up against the wall is a canvas. It's been blank for...he doesn't know how long. It's a white expanse that mocks him endlessly and he wants to forget it exists but he can't. The snow reminds him of it. Both were unmarked, left blank to be painted over by someone. In the case of the snow, it's the few creatures still awake this deep in the winter. In the case of the canvas, it is him, the painter. He sets his mug down, licks his lips. He can taste the hot chocolate on his lips and he sighs, airy and content. Mostly. A restlessness sits within him and he tries, and fails again, to ignore the canvas. He tells himself, when he opens his eyes and gazes out at the snow, that today is the day that he marks the canvas.

Behind it, lining the walls, are his previous creations. They mock him, encourage him. Tell him that he'd done it countless time before, so why does he falter with putting a brush in some paint and throwing it onto the canvas now? He's not sure what's behind his block, but he looks away, regardless. Imagines the snow peppered with the dark spots of animal tracks as they scamper and play through it.

He thinks instead about the fortune that has lead them to be where they are. Taehyung, staying home and able to wallow in his art block without the threat of a deadline. While Jimin runs around town, handling affairs that he could never be bothered with. He closes his eyes, rocks back until he bounces back on the mattress of their bed. A bed. The one Jimin helped him push into the room months ago.

Jimin's giggle lingers on his skin, ghosts in his mind. Phantom fingers card through his hair and he turns into the memory. He opens his eyes, and can see it so perfectly. Jimin settling Taehyun'gs head on his plush thighs, stroking his head as he eased himself into a stress-induced headache. The way he gingerly dangles the glass of whiskey in front of Taehyung, letting it sit on his cheek as the chill seeps into his skin. A tender moment he cherishes, and maybe the moment he realized how much he loved Jimin.

He grins, rolls over again. The room is marked by memories. But, as he opens his eyes, he is reminded that he still has more to make. He pushes himself up, crosses the room to the canvas. He downs the rest of his hot chocolate, clad in clothes that make him feel like he's being squished in a hug, as he stares at the canvas. Trying to find the image within it. He has no doubts that when his mind and hands cooperate, it will be Jimin. It has always been Jimin. He rolls up his sleeves, pulls his working tarp out.

He covers it. The paint splashes onto the wall in places, but this is his workroom and he's gotten used to the idea of it being a mess. The blackness drips down the white canvas and he watches it, satisfied with this start. He stares, watches the paint as it slinks down from the canvas to the tarp. It will be an uneven layer to start, but he has no doubts that he can fix that by going over it.

Maybe this piece will be something raw. White lines etched over black. Maybe something deeper. He doesn't know yet and maybe that helps. Jimin's voice echoes, but not in his mind this time.

"Tae?" The door opens and there he is.

His muse, his wonder. Jimin's face lights up, and it feels...it feels like the snow will melt if he gets too close to the window. Plump lips spread in a smile, the white squares of his teeth on full display now. His eyes disappear into little crescents as he smiles, stepping further into the room. His jacket is dotted with the melted remnants of snow, big and puffy. It makes the man look much smaller, his frame swallowed up by the coat.

"Did you just get back?" He coos as he approaches, hands large on Jimin's face. Mashes his cheeks up like he always does and there's a comfort in the familiarity that he zones in on. But Jimin continues to smile until his gaze flickers over Taehyung's shoulder.

His lips part in a moment of wonderment. "New painting?" Taehyung glances back, nods.

"I'm trying something new." He sticks his hands in his pocket, rocks back. "It feels...different, I think."

"Different is good." There is an edge to his voice that doesn't make it sound so good.

Taehyung doesn't press on it. Fears it that might just be his mind thinking a little too much. He doesn't want to ruin the wonder he does hear. Jimin has always made him feel like he makes something magical with hands, even if he doesn't see it sometimes. 

"What are we having for dinner?" He steered the conversation away from the piece, turned his back to the black canvas.

The other perked up at this, seemingly glad for the change of subject. "What would you like?"

Taehyung could say he enjoys his evenings with Jimin. Enjoys the way they fall into a comfortable rhythm. The other has a penchant for running his hands over the other's skin, pressing kisses to his neck. The radio plays in the background, a soundtrack to their simple life. He is full and warm, sated as he leans on Jimin. The man turns up the radio, fiddles with the dial as something soft plays. Familiar lyrics drift into the room, the wall of glass presenting them with the pretty scenery of the snow. The other spun into his arms, his hands resting on Jimin's hips.

They dance like this every night, Jimin guiding him through it. Taehyung has only ever done the foxtrot or a waltz or whatever it's called with Jimin. He only ever wants to do them with him.

The song changes, picks up tempo. He recognizes this voice, a grin breaking out on his face as he twirls Jimin away. Catches the edge of his fingers to pull him back in. The other giggles and they sway as Frank Sinatra makes an offer to fly away. Jimin presses his lips to his collarbone, laughs against the skin. He smells like honeysuckle.

The radio continues to play as the evening continues. He makes himself another cup of hot chocolate, and one for Jimin, too. They cover themselves in a thick black, sit on opposite ends of the small couch. They're more squished up than anything. Jimin tilts his head.

"The painting." Jimin doesn't look like he wants to start the conversation, but he does it anyways. "What gave you the idea to paint the canvas black?"

He shrugs, stares down at the mug. "I wanted to try something different."

"There are a lot of ways to be different." Jimin's hair falls in his face. His voice is as warm as the mug in Taehyung's hands. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but are you thinking about a style change?"

Jimin doesn't know all the technical terms. He doesn't, either, if he's being honest, but the other asking brings a smile to his face. "I think so."

"Did you feel stuck or something?"

"With that piece, yeah." He shrugs again, takes a sip of his cocoa. "Maybe this will be the sort of change I need to unstick myself."

The other giggles, squeaks a little. He's not sure what he's said that's so funny, but soon enough he is laughing as well. They fall into a silence so familiar and comfortable, that he almost falls asleep. Jimin nudges him with his toes before he can, leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek and murmur that they should go to bed. His breath smells like chocolate. He savors the smell a moment, lets his eyes shut fully before he nods his assent.

They turn the radio down as they clean up, fold the blanket together. They have a mini round of tug-o-war over it. More laughter, and warmth seeps into him at the sound of it. Once it's settled (Jimin declares himself the victor), they make their way to getting ready for bed. Another part of their routine that feels so familiar, he feels like he's floating through it. He blinks, and he is in bed.

Somewhere along the way, he asked for them to be here. In his workroom. The curtains have not been drawn close and the snow seems to radiate light. Bounces the moonlight in. It's not the same as the sun or the lights turned on, but it's enough that he can see everything clearly. Jimin is snug behind him, tucked into his back. His breath ghosts his shoulder blades, arms tight around him. He sinks into the safety of the other's arms, awaits sleep to join him as it already has Jimin.

His eyes find the canvas, sat up against the wall. The blackness draws his eyes, keeps him locked in it for a moment longer. Then he blinks.

The light from the sun streams in, blinding as it comes off the snow. He smacks his lips together, grimaces at the dryness of his mouth and the wetness of his pillow. He cannot feel Jimin's arms around him, but the faint aroma of breakfast wafts over to him. He turns his head, blinking.

The canvas stares back at him when his eyes focus. He sighs, rubs his neck as he slips out of bed. His feet hit cool floor and he shudders, rolls up on the balls of his feet to start a hurried tiptoe out of the room.

And past a blank canvas.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading thus far!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/discountghosts) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/remeremerem)


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